


Home Grown or Five Times Jonny Read Patrick’s Sign (and One Time Patrick Read Jonny’s)

by CoffeeKristin



Series: Just an Old Fashioned Love Song or Five Times Jonny and Patrick Didn't Play Hockey (and One Time They Did) [2]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick’s doodling in his notebook, trying out a couple of designs for the Hossa garden when the bell over the door jingles. He looks up and smiles at the man who walks in.</p><p>The tall, gorgeous, stacked man.</p><p>“Welcome to Kane’s Nursery,” Patrick says, trying not to smile too broadly, but his voice is definitely a little breathless. He gets a grunt in return, the guy frowning. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“I’m - yeah,” the guy says, frown deepening as he looks around the shop a little uncertainly. “I need some seeds.”</p><p>“<i>You feel the need, the need for seed,”</i> Patrick intones, but the guy only frowns more deeply.</p><p>“That’s what I just said.” Now he’s staring at Patrick, his dark eyes judgmental.</p><p>“O-kay,” Patrick says. So he’s dealing with a tall, gorgeous, stacked, grumpy man. “What kind of seeds do you need?”</p><p>“Are you making fun of me?” The guy squints at Patrick.</p><p>“Nah, man, just - I’m kinda known for, uh,” Patrick scratches his head sheepishly. “So, tell me what you want to grow.”</p><p> </p><p>Or, Patrick woos Jonny with increasingly horrible puns, and Jonny woos Patrick right back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Grown or Five Times Jonny Read Patrick’s Sign (and One Time Patrick Read Jonny’s)

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is inspired by an actual nursery I drive by about once a month. Whoever's in charge of their sign out front keeps me in stitches, and it spurred the kernel of an idea: what if Kaner was the one putting up the horrible puns, and Jonny was intrigued enough by them to come in? As my lovely Katie knows, that's about all it takes for me to get seized by a fic idea, and away we go.
> 
> This is the second in a series of 5+1 fics that focus on Jonny and Patrick having different careers. Thanks to my excellent betas Sue and [celtprincess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/celtprincess13/pseuds/celtprincess13), and my muse Katie aka [Frosting50](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosting50/pseuds/Frosting50), who as usual, encourages (bullied) me into writing for her, and then gives me the best feedback that makes me want to write more things for her. I'm basically Stockholmed at this point. Someone save me. Help. Help. ;)

_**1:**_

> WE’RE SO EXCITED FOR SPRING, WE WET OUR PLANTS!

Patrick’s doodling in his notebook, trying out a couple of designs for the Hossa garden when the bell over the door jingles. He looks up and smiles at the man who walks in.

The tall, gorgeous, stacked man.

“Welcome to Kane’s Nursery,” Patrick says, trying not to smile too broadly, but his voice is definitely a little breathless. He gets a grunt in return, the guy frowning. “How can I help you?”

“I’m - yeah,” the guy says, frown deepening as he looks around the shop a little uncertainly. “I need some seeds.”

“ _You feel the need, the need for seed,”_ Patrick intones, but the guy only frowns more deeply.

“That’s what I just said.” Now he’s staring at Patrick, his dark eyes judgmental.

“O-kay,” Patrick says. So he’s dealing with a tall, gorgeous, stacked, _grumpy_ man. “What kind of seeds do you need?”

“Are you making fun of me?” The guy squints at Patrick.

“Nah, man, just - I’m kinda known for, uh,” Patrick scratches his head sheepishly. “So, tell me what you want to grow.”

They talk about the guy - Jonny’s - rooftop garden and what kind of sunlight he’s got, and settle on planting some lettuce, carrots, radishes, and a few herbs, a good starter crop for a new gardener. Patrick takes him outside to grab a couple of bags of soil and helps load them into the trunk of Jonny’s low-slung Tesla.

Tall, gorgeous, stacked, grumpy, _rich_ man. This guy is so out of Patrick’s league.

Jonny shifts a little once he closes the trunk, glancing at Patrick and frowning again. He opens and closes his mouth, and Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Spit it out, man.”

“Did you - are you the one who puts up the signs?” The judgmental look from earlier is back.

“The signs?” Patrick asks. Jonny gestures at the marquee. “Oh! Yeah, guilty.” He doesn’t tell Jonny it’s one of the things he loves most about his job; based on the look he’s giving Patrick, he has a feeling Jonny wouldn’t be impressed. For a long moment, Jonny stares at Patrick, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods once and climbs in his car, driving off after thanking Patrick again.

_**2:**_

> BEAN THINKING ABOUT HOW UP-BEET I AM FROM ALL THE PEAS AND LOVE IN THE WORLD

Patrick’s affixing the last letter to the sign when he startles at a voice behind him.

“Bean thinking how up-beet I am? Really?”

Patrick turns to see Jonny standing next to his car, hands on his hips and a disdainful expression on his face. Patrick laughs and jumps down from the platform, looking back at his sign.

“I know, awesome, right?” Patrick smiles at Jonny, grinning harder when the annoyed expression on his face deepens.

“Wrong,” Jonny says flatly. “Puns are the work of juvenile minds.”

“Is that so?’ Patrick crosses his arms, getting a little annoyed himself. “I think people who don’t like puns have no sense of humor and are basically dead inside.”

Jonny scoffs but doesn’t say anything more about the sign as they walk into the shop.

“So, if you’re done making disapproving noises about my excellent sign, what do you need?” Patrick doesn’t mean to sound pissy, but he knows he’s not quite successful when Erica looks up sharply from her perch behind the counter. “I mean, uh. Did the seeds work out?”

“No,” Jonny says, looking pissy. It’s a look that really works for him, the asshole. “A few little sprouts and some very small carrots, but the lettuce didn’t grow at all.” He pulls out his phone and shows Patrick a photo of a bed of soil with three sad looking carrot tops and the aforementioned shoots, which Patrick thinks might be the beets. “I think you sold me defective seeds.”

“I didn’t sell you defective seeds, dude. But... Hmm... I think you overwatered them,” Patrick says, taking the phone and zooming in. “And did you use the organic soil? Because this soil looks funny.”

“No, I,” Jonny’s cheeks redden a little. “A friend had some dirt left over from planting new grass that he was gonna throw out, and I didn’t want to waste it, so I used that instead. Your soil is still in my garage.”

“Well, that’s your problem, man. This soil doesn’t have any nutrients in it - it’s only to keep the grass seed covered while it takes root. You won’t ever grow anything in it.” Patrick bites back _you fucking idiot,_ but he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “What did you do with my soil?”

“ _Your soil,”_ Jonny says snottily, “is in my garage. Like I said.” The silent _you fucking idiot_ is volleyed back at Patrick, and he’s maybe a little too into the pissy, challenging look on Jonny’s face, because he wants to keep putting it on him, and maybe see if he can kiss it off.

“Okay, so we’ll get you some more seeds and you’ll plant it in the soil I told you to use, and you should have something growing in a few weeks.” He grabs a few more packets of the same seeds Jonny’d bought before, blushing a little when Erica looks at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t say anything though, just rings Jonny up and watches silently as he leaves, still grumbling under his breath about faulty seeds and stupid puns.

“Who’s that, Pat?” Erica looks over at Patrick, a gleam in her eye. Her tone is even but Patrick looks at her suspiciously. He’s been her big brother for too long not to recognize when her radar is up.

“Nobody. Just some guy.” Patrick sighs when she just raises an eyebrow. “Fine, that’s Jonny. He’s tall, gorgeous, and stacked. And I have the hots for him. Oh, and he’s also rich, and an asshole, and completely out of my league. Happy now?”

“Looked like you have more than just the hots for him,” Erica notes mildly, but she doesn’t say anything else and Patrick takes advantage of another customer entering the store to head to the back and grab his design book. He’s got an appointment at the Sharp’s in an hour for a consultation and he needs to get his head in the game if he wants to get the job.

The third time he catches himself thinking about how Jonny’s ass looked as he’d walked out, he shuts the book and bangs his head on the table.

Fucking tall, gorgeous, stacked Jonny.

_**3:**_

> I’VE ALWAYS BEEN AFRAID OF GARDENING, BUT THEN I DECIDED TO GROW A PEAR

Jonny’s actually smiling when he walks in six weeks later, a small basket filled with large, healthy radishes and carrots.

“Wow, those look great!” Patrick says, coming around from the counter to peer into the basket.

“Help yourself, I, uh. I brought them for you,” Jonny says, looking down so Patrick can’t catch his gaze. The tips of his ears are pink, and Patrick swallows.

“Oh,” Patrick says dumbly, biting his cheek a little to keep his grin from breaking his face. “Thanks, man.” He takes a carrot out - it’s clean and tastes sweet and crunchy when he bites into it. “Tastes as good as it looks. Good job, Farmer Jon.”

Jonny laughs a little, his tentative smile replaced by a satisfied grin. It looks unfairly good on his face, and Patrick has to look back down at the carrot he’s rapidly reduced to a long, leafy stem.

“You were right about the soil, I had sprouts right away.” Jonny puts the basket down on the counter. “It took a few days to get the watering figured out but - “

“Did you follow the schedule I gave you?”

“Yes, Patrick,” Jonny deadpans. “I’ve learned my lesson, always do as you say.”

“Learning you are, young padawan,” Patrick says.

Jonny chuckles and shakes his head. “You and your jokes, man. So lame and childish. Then again, you’re pretty tiny, are you still in junior high?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Patrick says, then bites his lips, because even if he and Jonny have a rapport, his father wouldn’t be happy that he’s mouthing off to a customer.

“You fuck off,” Jonny responds, seemingly untroubled, and Patrick relaxes. They chirp each other while they pick out a few more things for Jonny to grow, including a couple of cherry tomato hanging planters, even though Jonny protests that it’s cheating.

“Trust me, Jonny, you’re gonna love the tomatoes these babies produce,” Patrick says, bagging up the seeds. “And I think these are gonna work great, if you follow-”

“Follow your directions, I got it, I got it,” Jonny smiles ruefully. “Learned my lesson there.”

They head out to Jonny’s car, chatting about the Stanley Cup playoffs, which gives Patrick the chance to tell Jonny he’s dead wrong about the Hawks losing again this year. Once they have everything stowed, Patrick finds himself reluctant to let Jonny leave, and he bites his lip, squinting up at Jonny. Jonny seems equally reluctant, and Patrick is just about to step closer when Jonny nods, and climbs into his car.

“Well, uh, thanks,” Patrick says, standing beside the car, a little baffled at what just happened. “For the carrots and radishes.”

“Thanks for helping with my garden,” Jonny replies easily. He puts the car into gear and backs out of the space, pausing next to Patrick as he pulls up next to him. “Do you sell fruit trees?” Jonny’s got a confident, practically filthy grin on his face, and Patrick has to force himself to stop staring at his pink lips.

“Sure,” Patrick says. “You thinking about planting an apple tree or something? We can call you Jonny Appleseed.”

“Nah,” Jonny says, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes. “I’ve just been thinking about growing a pear.” He pulls out of the parking lot while Patrick’s still laughing, gunning the engine into a low purr.

It’s not sexy at all, and Patrick definitely doesn’t spend the rest of the day daydreaming about how Jonny’d looked: dorky, mischievous grin splitting his face, sunglasses on, chiseled cheekbones, hair a little too long and curling onto his forehead…

Yeah, he definitely doesn’t do any of that.

_**4:**_

> OLD GARDENERS NEVER DIE, THEY JUST SPADE AWAY  
>  RIP DONALD KANE, BELOVED FATHER, GRANDFATHER, FRIEND, GARDENER EXTRAORDINAIRE

The shop is technically closed, but Patrick stops by on his way to the reception his parents are hosting back at the house. He needs somewhere quiet and cool to compose himself after the emotions of the funeral, and the shop where he spent so much time with Grandpa seems like the perfect place.

Patrick’s just taken off his jacket when the chimes over the door ring; he must have forgotten to lock the door. “Sorry, we’re - “ Patrick breaks off when he sees it’s Jonny. “Oh.”

He’s not surprised to see Jonny - he’s been coming in every few days for weeks now, hanging out and chirping Patrick about everything from his hair to his car. But the flood of relief he feels when Jonny comes in is out of scope to whatever tentative, nascent relationship they’ve been building.

“Hey man,” Jonny says, approaching warily, politely looking away while Patrick not-so-subtly knuckles his eyes, which are probably red from the tears that’ve been threatening all day. “I heard about your grandfather. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says, sniffling a little. “He was a great guy.” He pauses and swallows heavily. “He was… he always… He was just great.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Jonny says, smiling gently. “I’d love to - do you - maybe tell me about him? If you want, I mean, if it’s too much - ”

“He founded Kane’s Nursery,” Patrick interrupts. Confiding in Jonny feels like it might lift some of the weight off his chest, a weight that’s felt crushing this past week. “He taught me everything I know about plants and flowers, encouraged me to get into design, paid for me to go to college.” Patrick sighs, long and shuddering. “He was my best friend.”

“I’m so sorry, Patrick,” Jonny says again, stepping closer. “Can I - is there anything I can do?”

“Just, can you… stay?”

“Sure, Pat,” Jonny says, gently pulling Patrick into a loose hug, and Patrick sighs again, his eyes prickling, then filling and finally overflowing.

Patrick’s tried really hard to be strong for his family, for his dad, since Grandpa passed; he’d been so sick for so long, and it was a blessing, in many ways, to see his suffering end.

But it was Grandpa, and everything important in Patrick’s life seemed to come from him.

Patrick lets himself sag into Jonny, whose hand is slowly stroking up and down his back, other hand cupping his head. He cries for his grandpa, he cries for his dad, and his aunts and uncles, he cries for his sisters, his cousins.

He cries for himself.

Finally, long minutes later, the tears trail off, and Jonny pulls back, handing Patrick a handkerchief. Patrick stares at it, and slowly smiles, a little watery. “A handkerchief? Really? Are you secretly a Victorian maiden?”

“Fuck off,” Jonny says, but he’s grinning tentatively, like he’s afraid Patrick’s going to start weeping again. “Just blow your nose; you’re a mess.”

Patrick scoffs but wipes his eyes, blows his nose, and pockets the handkerchief. “Thanks, and, uh. Sorry I snotted all over you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jonny says, pulling Patrick into another hug. “Glad I was here for you.”

Patrick looks up at Jonny through his lashes. Jonny’s looking back, eyes dark and serious. They hang there, the moment charged with grief, and comfort, and something else. It only breaks when Jonny sighs and leans forward, his lips parting.

“Pat,” Jonny says, and then he’s closed the distance between them. He kisses Patrick gently, so gently that it makes Patrick shiver. At first it’s an almost chaste kiss before Jonny deepens it, licking along the seam of Patrick’s mouth. Patrick moans and pulls Jonny closer, and Jonny takes advantage of the sound to lick into Patrick’s mouth.

It’s electric. It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to Patrick in -- well -- maybe ever, and he finds himself making little noises of pleasure as they clutch at each other, their tongues entwined, their hands roaming. Jonny’s response is to chase the noises, and soon they’re both moaning, hips aligned in a way that makes pleasure light up Patrick’s body.

“Jonny,” Patrick gasps, turning his face to the side. Jonny hums and kisses down Patrick’s jawline, licking a little at the hinge before biting lightly on his ear. “Jonny, what are you doing?”

Jonny huffs out a laugh. “Kissing you, you idiot.”

“Yeah, but - “

Jonny cuts him off with another kiss, and it’s probably another five minutes before Patrick pulls back reluctantly. He’s a little shaky with the emotional see-saw of the last few minutes, his grief having given way to hope and the low thrum of arousal. “This is amazing, but I have to get to my parents’ for the reception,” Patrick says with regret. He glances at the clock and startles, stepping back. “Shit, I’m so late. My sisters are gonna kill me.”

Patrick grabs his suit coat and locks up, and Jonny walks him to his car, kissing him softly again.

“Can we - I’d like to do this again,” Patrick says, gesturing between the two of them.

“Yeah,” Jonny says, a huge smile breaking over his face. “We should definitely do this again.”

It’s not until Patrick drives away that he realizes they didn’t exchange numbers or make plans to get together. But he’s not worried; Jonny knows where to find him.

**5:  
**

> KNOCK KNOCK  
>  WHO’S THERE?  
>  HONEYDEW!  
>  HONEYDEW WHO?  
>  HONEYDEW YOU WANT TO GO OUT WITH ME?

Every time someone opens the door, Patrick’s head snaps up. It’s never Jonny, though, and ten days after his grandpa’s funeral, and two days after he changed the marquee with still no sign of Jonny, he’s convinced himself that Jonny’s just not interested.

“Stop with the pouting and deep sighs and the - “ Jessica pokes Patrick’s cheek - “whatever you’re doing with your face. It’s starting to drive away our customers.”

Patrick pushes her hand away. “Fuck off, it is not,” he says, rubbing his cheek.

“Maybe not yet, but it’s still pathetic and sad, and no one needs you bringing us down.” She makes an apologetic face at Patrick, and he winces. It’s not even two weeks since the funeral, and they’re all still recovering from losing Grandpa; he definitely doesn’t need to make everyone feel worse than they all already do.

Patrick pulls Jessica close and hugs her tightly. “Sorry, I’m - I just…” Patrick says. “I really thought he was interested, you know?”

Jessica squeezes him back, rocking them both a little. “He is! Maybe he’s out of town - or he’s sick and doesn’t want to spread his germs. Or, I don’t know - “

“Or he’s not interested,” Patrick says, suddenly exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the past few weeks. “Let’s be real, a guy like that? He’s not gonna want someone like me.”

“He kissed you, Patty, of course he’s interested,” Jessica counters. “And you’re awesome, you asshole.”

“He felt sorry for me because of Grandpa,” Patrick corrects, voicing the thing he’s worried about ever since the euphoria of Jonny’s kiss wore off. “It was a pity kiss.”

“It wasn’t a pity kiss,” a deep voice says and Patrick’s head snaps up. Jonny’s standing a few feet away, a rueful and amused expression on his face.

Jessica looks at Jonny, her gaze sharp, then back at Patrick, raising an eyebrow. Patrick shrugs, his face heating a little.

Jessica steps back, pushing Patrick around the counter and closer to Jonny before turning to address Jonny. “So, hi, I’m Jess. You must be Jonny. I’ll meet you properly later,” Jessica says brightly, backing toward the door to the office. “But, right now. I’ve gotta go get… something. I’ll be gone a long, long time.” With that, Jessica darts out, giving Patrick a quick grin and thumbs up as she goes through the door and closes it firmly behind her.

Silence descends in the shop. Patrick and Jonny stare at each other a little dumbly for a long moment before Jonny clears his throat. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Patrick says. They stall there for another long moment before Patrick makes himself speak. “So it wasn’t - it wasn’t a pity kiss?” He smiles a little but it’s awkward and insecure.

Jonny seems to get how unsure Patrick is feeling, and steps closer. “Nope,” Jonny says, reaching for Patrick’s hand and tugging him in until they’re standing a mere foot apart.

“Then why haven’t you - “ Patrick breaks off and bites his lip, and Jonny squeezes his hand.

“Why haven’t I been around?” Patrick nods, and Jonny makes a face. “I had to go out of the country for work and every time I called here, you were closed.”

“Why didn’t you leave a message?” Patrick asks.

“Oh, like, _hey Kane family, I’m the guy who kissed Patrick the day of your grandfather’s funeral, can you send him a message that I think he’s hot and I’d like to take him out when I get back from Singapore?”_

“You were in Singapore?” Patrick marvels.

“Pat…” Jonny says, his teeth clenched a little. “ _That’s_ what you got from what I just said?”

“Oh,” Patrick says, blushing a little.

“So, can I get your number?” Jonny asks, reaching out to brush his thumb across Patrick’s cheek. “That way we won’t have anymore misunderstandings.”

Patrick closes his eyes and relaxes into his touch. “Oh,” he says again with a sigh, and Jonny chuckles softly.

“Is that a yes?” Jonny cups Patrick’s jaw and steps in a little, pressing against Patrick all along the front of his body. “I hope it’s a yes.”

“Yes,” Patrick sighs, even as Jonny kisses him, stealing the word off his lips, licking into his mouth. They kiss for a long time, the only sound the slick noises of their mouths and the little moans that Patrick can’t seem to keep in and that Jonny echoes back to him.

Jonny finally draws back, but he doesn’t go far, kissing Patrick on the forehead and hugging him tightly.

“The answer’s yes, by the way,” Jonny says, his voice gravely. He’s still a little breathless and Patrick can’t resist pressing kisses to the bottom on his jaw.

“Yes?” Patrick asks, distracted by Jonny’s rough stubble he’s mouthing.

“Yes, Patrick. I honeydew want to go out with you,” Jonny says, pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows at Patrick.

“Oh God,” Patrick giggles, his cheeks heating. “You saw that, huh?”

“Yep,” Jonny says. “Saw it on the way to work yesterday and almost drove off the road.”

“Yesterday!” Patrick squawks, outraged. “What the hell, man, I’ve been dying here and you just - you just drive by!”

“It was a long day at work and when I drove home, you were already closed,” Jonny defends. “And I couldn’t call because…”

“You didn’t have my number,” Patrick finishes, mollified.

“And even though it’s a terrible, terrible joke - “

“Hey, now,” Patrick interrupts.

“Even though it’s a terrible joke,” Jonny continues firmly, ignoring Patrick. “I do want to go out with you. I even _honeydew want to go out with you._ ”

“Okay,” Patrick says, but this time he’s not laughing because Jonny’s looking at him, eyes dark and serious and no one’s ever looked at Patrick what that kind of focus before.

And then it’s Patrick’s turn to be breathless as Jonny kisses him within an inch of his life.

_**+1**_

> I LOVE YOU FROM MY HEAD TOMATOES

“I knew you were using me for my green thumb,” Patrick teases, climbing into the front seat of his Hummer and pulling into traffic. Jonny wanted to get some more seeds and he’d asked Patrick to open the store on a Sunday. Luckily for him, Patrick was the kind of man who indulged his boyfriend in such things.

“Sure, babe, the past three months has all been about seducing you into managing my rooftop garden. How ever did you figure it out,” Jonny deadpans.

“I knew it!” Patrick crows, and Jonny grins at him, his expression a mix of fond and happy and just - Patrick’s opening his mouth to blurt out the three words he’s been biting back for the past, well, three months, when Jonny clears his throat.

“What?” Patrick asks, but Jonny just frowns and bites his lip. He’s been acting squirrelly all morning, ever since he came back from the gym, and it’s setting Patrick on edge. He feels like Jonny’s hiding something and if he is, there’s every chance that it won’t be good. Or it might be good - Jonny’s been the best boyfriend Patrick’s ever had, and he -

“Nothing, just.” Jonny interrupts Patrick’s runaway thoughts. “Glad to be here, with you.”

“You don’t look glad, dude, you look constipated. Or like you’re waiting for the results of some stupid test. Or like you’re constipated from waiting for the results - “

“I get it, I get it,” Jonny harrumphs, but he’s smiling again, and Patrick always counts that as a win. “I’m not either of those things.”

“Not constipated, not even a little?” Patrick presses, sticking his tongue out and biting it when Jonny laughs. _”Un petit constipation?”_

“Oh my god, do not,” Jonny groans, covering his ears. “Please, no French, I beg you.”

“ _Oui, oui! Je suis Pepe LePew_ ,” Patrick growls, guttural and exaggerated. He yelps when Jonny reaches across the console and twists Patrick’s nipple hard. “Hey, fucker, I’m driving! Do you want to get in into an accident?”

“ _Non, non, Monsieur Kane,”_ Jonny says, followed by a bunch of words that mean nothing to Patrick. Judging by the bitchy expression on Jonny’s face when Patrick glances over, though, they’re not complimentary about Patrick.

“Don’t miss the turn!” Jonny cries, gesturing at the driveway for the Kane Nursery. Patrick snorts - he hasn’t missed the turn since he was nine years old. He turns back to look at the road after flipping Jonny off and slams on the brakes, pulling the car onto the shoulder. Because there’s new lettering on the marquee, which is surrounded by balloons and streamers.

 _”I love you from my head tomatoes,”_ Patrick reads, softly, his mouth dry. When he looks over at Jonny, he’s staring at Patrick, fiercely hopeful, his cheeks red. “Jonny, is this - did you put up that sign?”

Jonny nods once, a sharp up and down movement, without looking away, and Patrick can see that behind his almost defiant expression, Jonny is terrified. He puts the Hummer into park and unbuckles his seatbelt, scrambling across the console into Jonny’s lap, pressing kiss after kiss against his cheeks and neck and head, all the time murmuring. “Love you, love you so much, God, Jonny, you can’t know,” over and over, kissing him deeply until the pink in Jonny’s cheeks is due to how turned on he is.

When Patrick finally pulls back, Jonny looks at him, still a little unsure, and Patrick giggles. He can’t help it. He’s just so fucking happy. Jonny’s unsure expression slides into something more annoyed, which Patrick takes as a win.

“I can’t believe you declared your love by putting a bad pun up on my family’s marquee!” Patrick says, cackling a little when Jonny’s face puckers. “I knew you loved my signs! You can’t deny it anymore.”

“Whoever denied it?” Jonny says sourly, but then his expression softens. “Seemed only fair, though.”

“Huh?’ Patrick’s maybe a little distracted by the red mark he left under Jonny’s ear, and whether he should suck on it a little longer. “What’s fair?”

“I think I fell in love with your sense of humor before I even met you,” Jonny says. “Used to drive by the nursery on purpose to see what stupidly lame joke you’d put up next. And then I met you and. Yeah.” Jonny shrugs. “That was it for me.”

Patrick inhales, his chest tightening. Jonny shifts a little in his seat when Patrick can’t do anything but gaze at him mutely. “What?”

“Nothing, just,” Patrick clears his throat. “You’re so - really?”

“Yeah, really,” Jonny says, kissing Patrick again.

Patrick knocks their foreheads together gently. “I think I was wooing you with those puns, after you came in the first time.”

“I had a feeling,” Jonny says wryly. “It worked.”

“Yeah it did. Also, you’re a complete sap,” Patrick adds.

“I am not,” Jonny replies, pushing Patrick back into his seat.

“I’m fucking irresistible, and you’re a sap,” Patrick sing-songs. “Saaaaaap.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to question my taste in men,” Jonny says, crossing his arms, but a grin is playing around his lips.

“No, you’re not,” Patrick says confidently. “You love me. And my signs.”

“No, I’m not,” Jonny returns. “I love you. And your signs.”

“Sap,” Patrick sniffles.

“Let’s go get my plants,” Jonny says. “I’ve got plans for when we get home.” His gaze is hot and Patrick can’t resist Jonny when he’s bossy, so he puts the car in gear and drives into the nursery parking lot, bickering with Jonny the whole way into the store.

And if he makes Jonny take a selfie with the sign in the background and tweets it out with “#Showtime #DatAss #BoomHeartbreaker”, well. Patrick’s not above being a sap, too.


End file.
